The Kingdom's Banquet

Because this is a story from thousands of years ago.

At its height, the Empire had swallowed the entire Central Continent. Yet cross just two mountain ranges east of that vast dominion, and you would find a kingdom of no small size.

Beneath its soil lay rich veins of high-quality minerals, and its sweeping plains were blessed with a climate perfect for farming. Above ground roamed monsters of a manageable level, along with valuable materials to harvest from them. The Empire itself had envied all of it — enough to wage seven wars across the centuries, and in the end, to take nothing. A kingdom of legend.

The Kingdom of Thalical.

"...So the tournament has concluded, then."

"That is correct, Your Majesty."

Dria von Thalikal, King of Thalical, nodded along to his Finance Minister's report. The tournament — hosted by Vlack, Guildmaster of Black Moon and a warrior rivaling even the Knight-Captain of the Red Eagles, the living blade of Thalical — had come to an end.

For the so-called Mock Siege, Thalical had poured in no less than one hundred thousand gold. By earthly reckoning, that came to something on the order of two billion won.

Thalical had not been alone in this sponsorship; the other kingdoms near the Empire had contributed as well, and every one of them had its reasons for showering gifts upon the Outworlders.

"Is the banquet preparation proceeding smoothly?"

"Of course. The diplomatic delegations have all already been dispatched."

A banquet. On the surface, it was a festive gathering — a night of celebration for the tournament's end and hopes for future prosperity. But to the kingdoms, it meant something else entirely.

The Outworlders are immortals who return even in death. We must recruit the capable ones to our kingdoms.

Outworlder, outsider, otherworlder — every nation had its own name for them, but their single great common trait was that they were "immortals" who would not die no matter how many times they were slain.

On paper, that sounded like a terrifying power. But were they truly that strong?

No, not really.

The knights of a kingdom could overpower the vast majority of Outworlders; even a hundred of them swarming at once could be handled by a knight of true skill. But knights must be treated when wounded, and when they die, they do not come back. In ages past there had been a Saintess, for whom even death was no barrier — but now there were only priests and clerics who could not walk a single step in her shadow. The Empire, it was said, had its own Saintess, but that was no concern of Thalical's.

In the end, strong Outworlders were a sword that never broke and never feared dying.

The situation with the Empire is anything but stable. They may well start another war before long.

Thalical had repelled seven full invasions from the Empire — not because Thalical was strong, but because the Empire had never truly committed its whole heart, and because whenever the kingdom found itself in danger, the "Blacksmith of the Great One" had always risen to forge a magnificent masterpiece.

If war broke out again, the Blacksmith would surely take up his hammer once more. But no matter how fine the weapons he made, the kingdom's territory would still be trampled all the same.

How reassuring it would be if Vlack, who had walked away with several masterpieces, could be their blade — but he had ties to kingdoms across the continent, and could hardly be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠called Thalical's alone. The one small mercy was that he was not on the Empire's side.

The king, Dria, found his thoughts drifting to two individuals who belonged to the Empire.

"Hoo... The Empire is ever a step ahead of us all."

The Sword God, called the strongest of all immortals. And following in his wake, Leo — the nymph spirit mage who had surpassed even the Grand Mages. Each of them wielded power enough to stand against an entire nation, and both currently held titles from the Empire and operated within its borders.

To be sure, they were honorary titles, so they could hardly be counted as true members of the Empire — but if war came, they would almost certainly side with it.

If only they were on our side...

Seeing the deepening gloom on Dria's face, the Finance Minister bowed his head and spoke.

"Do not worry, Your Majesty. In this tournament, Leo was defeated by another Outworlder. If Thalical recruits that Outworlder, the matter is resolved."

"...Yes. There is still hope."

Dria had watched the tournament, briefly, through the court mages.

Blue hair and blue eyes. The strength to skewer an enemy with a single thrust of her spear, and movements so fluid they seemed like sorcery. Above all, she was a beauty so striking it was hard to tear one's gaze away — but Dria had fixed his attention entirely on her skill.

Beautiful.

Every single motion, every way she carried and wielded her weapon — beautiful.

"What was that person's name, again?"

"Lily Elbrit, Your Majesty."

"Lily Elbrit... Elbrit...?"

Elbrit?

"Does the name mean something to you, Your Majesty?"

"No — no, it's nothing. I must be imagining things."

Dria shook his head.

It was surely a coincidence. They said the Outworlders chose their names however they pleased. He had seen a similar name once, in a book found long ago in the old archive — a tale called Myths and the Savior — but that had to be a mistake.

Even if it were the same name, it would be nothing more than that. The same name, not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same person.

Because that myth is a story from thousands of years ago.

"Spare no expense in recruiting the Outworlder Lily."

"Yes, Your Majesty! We will secure her recruitment without fail!"

Seven o'clock in the evening.

I studied myself in the waiting room mirror as I finished dressing. The organizers had offered to send a team of stylists, but I'd turned them down.

There's no need for all that.

I had never applied makeup of my own will, nor gone out of my way to dress up. Part of it was that I simply didn't enjoy primping — but more than that, a Celestial is always in perfect condition. My face was maintained ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at its absolute peak, and whatever I threw over it, my clothes would always become the finest garments imaginable, with an eloquent reason for why they were the best choice.

Still, a banquet with a set dress code was a banquet with a set dress code — I couldn't exactly show up sloppy. So I draped a subtly tinted fabric over my usual snow-white saintess habit and fastened on a few pieces of jewelry.

In the mirror, a rather lovely woman smiled back at me.

Not bad.

Knock knock.

"Come in."

"We've come to esc—"

The staff member preparing for the banquet took one look at me and froze solid. Anyone passing by would have assumed time itself had stopped. Judging by her reaction, she wasn't a player...

"...You're departing now?"

"Ah! Yes, yes! This way, please!"

She snapped out of it and bustled ahead, flustered. The corridor was so immaculate that the set felt like reality rather than scenery — the sculptures hanging on the walls and the red carpet underfoot looked expensive at a glance. How much did all of this cost?

When the attendant guided me to the door at the corridor's end, the two staff standing there froze up all over again.

"H-hey—!"

"Y-yes! Right away, my lady!"

Cre-e-eak... The massive doors swung open.

The dazzling banquet hall unfolded before my eyes. The gazes of every guest draped in silks and brocades of every color converged on a single point — me.

I gazed back at them, offered a small smile, and gave a graceful nod.

Taking an empty seat, I glanced over the refreshments laid out on the table, then turned to the camera.

"Take it easy today, everyone."

Today's a rest day, after all.

"Oh, hardly."

"Miss Lily."

Someone was approaching.